"So they're not from the eighties."

"They got a bit stalled there, didn't they? Charlie owes me a favor, so he came."

The others probably all had stories like that. Rick had helped them, now they answered his call. But would they be enough to confront Arturo?

"Is that everyone you have? Are others coming?"

"I could use more," he said. "I ought to have more to face Arturo."

"You're talking like this is going to be a war. Like you and Arturo have armies. Is that what this is going to be? Vampires and werewolves battling in the streets of Denver? That can't happen. I'll tell the police—I have a contact with them."

"This has been going on for hundreds of years under the noses of mundane authorities. No one will notice."

He was right. People like us were killed all the time and no one much noticed. Through most of history there'd been a curtain drawn over our world.

"That's changing. The Denver PD has a Paranatural Unit, did you know that? If bodies start turning up, they'll notice. Look at how the newspaper played those nightclub attacks. You can't operate under the old assumptions."

He studied me sidelong. "What's your story? You're on edge, even more paranoid than usual. It's more than your mother's illness, isn't it?"

I almost told him. It was on the edge of my tongue. I hadn't told anyone but Ben, and for a moment I thought that if I told Rick about the miscarriage, it would explain everything. He'd leave me alone.

I ought to be milking it for all the pity I could.

"Rick, it's all I can do to take care of myself right now. I can't help you." I didn't want to get involved. I couldn't get involved.

He nodded, lips pursed thoughtfully. "I'm going to move soon. I have to do this before Mercedes leaves town. She has to spread the word that a new, stronger Master is in control here, and that Denver is off-limits."

"What's the deal with her? How is it she has both you and Arturo cowering?"

He smiled, a wry and bitter expression. "A Master vampire is a Master only as long as other vampires recognize him as such. Arturo will be desperate to prove that he's still in charge. And she has the power to decide that he isn't. When she moves along on her concert tour, the news of that will spread."

"So she's the vampire gossip mill and everyone tries to get on her good side? It can't be that simple. What happens if she decides to nudge things along in one direction or another?"

"Maybe we'll find out. Kitty, I know you have pressing concerns, but if Carl and Arturo win, you won't be able to stay to help your mother. You'll be in danger, and you see how easy it is to get to you."

"You're trying to scare me. I've already been scared. It's a lot harder to terrify me these days."

"I imagine so. Just remember, fear is good. Fear is a survival mechanism."

"And a tool used to manipulate others. Rick, I need to get back."

"All right." We turned the corner to where his slick BMW was parked.

We drove the whole way back to KNOB without saying a word. He stopped in the parking lot next to my hatchback and let me out without argument. He didn't have to do that. Carl or Arturo would have kept me locked up, just to show who had the power.

It occurred to me that Rick was one of the good guys.

"Thanks," I said, climbing out of the car.

"Just a minute. Take this." He reached over and offered me a slip of paper. It had a phone number written on it.

"This yours?" I said, and he nodded. "In case I change my mind?"

"Or if you need my help."

I couldn't decide if the gesture was out of optimism or pity. I stuck the number in my pocket. "Rick. How old are you?"

He shook his head, quirking a smile. I’m not going to answer that."

"If I keep asking, you might one of these days."

"I admire your persistence, Kitty."

I almost laughed. "At least somebody does. Good luck, Rick."

"I'm thinking I'll need it."

I closed the passenger door and he drove away, and I wondered if I'd ever see him again.

When my cell phone rang the next day, I checked the caller ID and my heart caught in my throat. It was Dad.

"Hi, Dad? What is it?"

Like I was afraid he would, he said, "The test results came in." His voice was serious, tired. Bad news, I was ready for bad news. "It's positive. Malignant. She's going in this afternoon to talk to the doctor."

"Do I need to come over? Do you want me to come over? What can I do?"

Nothing. Nothing but sit here and worry.

"I'm going with her to the doctor, but if you could come over for dinner, I think it'd be good. I think it would help."

"Really?"

He sighed. "I don't know. This happens to people every day—but it feels like we're the first people in the universe to have to deal with it. Does that make any sense?"

"Yeah, it does. You want me to pick something up? Chinese? Pizza? Just so no one has to cook."

"Sure, that sounds great. How about six?"

"I'll be there. Thanks for calling, Dad."

"See you soon." I clicked off the phone and started crying.

Ben had a new case to work on and begged off for the evening. Cheryl had also bowed out of dinner. One of the kids had caught a cold, Mark was working late, they didn't want to be a bother. A dozen excuses. But I wondered: Now who was shirking her filial duties?

I arrived at my folks' place with a bag full of take-out Chinese and a cheerful disposition.

Mom took the bag from me as I asked, "What did the doctor say? What's happening?" I didn't even say hello first. She was back to her put-together self, her fashionable blouse and slacks, with the right amount of jewelry and makeup. But she seemed harried.

"Let's eat first," she said. She wasn't smiling.

Dad came in from the kitchen and hugged me—something he never did, not right away like this. His face was pale, and he wasn't smiling either. Silently, the three of us put out plates, spooned out rice and stir fry, and settled in to it.

This was the most stressful meal I'd ever eaten. Not that I could honestly say I ate anything.

"How's work?" Dad asked finally, falling back on the standard question.